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Originally, Nico had not planned for one of his first days of the summer break to unfold the way it eventually did.
As soon as the break began, he had gone home with the very specific intention of spending his days stretched out on a sunbed, drifting in and out of naps, occasionally waking for a quick dip in the water, always with a bottle of ice-cold German beer within reach. Summer break was for regenerating, after all. And it wasn’t as if he was even allowed to do anything Formula One–related.
And, for the first couple of days, that plan worked beautifully. By day, Nico let himself slow down, deliberately pausing the constant push of the season, and let the stress seep out of his bones. Evenings ended with long, indulgent dinners in the company of his wife. He made his way to the beach and to pools, logging his cardio through swimming and biking. He didn’t slack on strength training either, though one of his new favorite workouts was entertaining his daughter by doing pushups while she laid on his back. She would giggle and try to sabotage him by tickling or pinching, but Nico only laughed. So what if he couldn’t push out quite as many reps as usual? It wasn’t as if his trainer was watching.
Despite how close he’d grown to the Sauber team, Nico found that spending time with his family like this was deeply refreshing. It was also a much-needed break from his rookie teammate. The kid was far away in Brazil, probably basking in the glow of his unexpected first-half success with his family. Bless him. As much as Nico liked the energy Gabi brought into the garage, he couldn’t deny how good it felt not to share every waking hour with him for a while. Maybe that was just his inner old German man speaking.
When Egle mentioned over dinner that she wanted to visit her mother, who was eager to see her granddaughter again, Nico had felt a little pang of disappointment. His mother-in-law never approved of his profession, always muttering about the day he might not come home and the heartbreak that would bring. Nico understood the fear, but that didn’t make the constant commentary any easier to swallow. That evening, Egle had caught him wearing his irritation a little too openly and burst into laughter. She reassured him quickly, reminding him that he should stay home, relax, and not overthink things.
Two days later, Nico found himself standing next to one of the cars in the driveway, bending low to press exaggerated goodbye kisses through the open passenger window to Noemi. He double-checked that her favorite stuffed animals were safely tucked into her little backpack. When his wife finally pulled away toward the airport, he stood waving until the car disappeared from sight. The flat felt eerily quiet once they were gone.
He decided to lean into the solitude. Breakfast was a yogurt bowl, toppings piled on without any calorie counting. These little indulgences were the point of the summer break.
Later, sprawled on the couch with his laptop balanced across his knees, he began going through emails. He hated a cluttered inbox, even on vacation. The empty yogurt bowl sat abandoned on the coffee table, laziness winning over the thought of carrying it back to the kitchen.
He was in the middle of scanning a sponsorship mail from Heinemann when his phone lit up with a number he didn’t recognize.
“Hallo?”
“Hello, old man.”
Only one person called him that. Nico frowned faintly. Why was Gabi calling him during the summer break?
“Gabriella,” he teased, the word rolling easily off his tongue. “Missed me so much you had to call?” He almost regretted not being able to see his teammate blush at the nickname. Nico had discovered early on that it got under Gabi’s skin just as effectively as the “old man” jokes got under his. That balance of annoyance had become their unspoken game. An eye for an eye.
“I’m in Monaco right now,” Gabi’s voice carried unrestrained glee. “Thought I could come by. I wanna see your retirement home, grandpa.”
Suppressing a sigh, Nico let his gaze flick around the flat. To be fair, it wasn’t in bad shape. And he couldn’t deny the idea of company was…not entirely unappealing. He actually liked Gabi, beneath all the teasing. Liked him more than he let on. Ever since Gabi had chosen to share valuable car feedback, information he could’ve easily hoarded for an advantage, Nico had found his respect for the rookie growing in quiet, unsettling ways.
“Sure,” he said. “I’m home alone anyway. Just give me an hour.” An hour should be plenty of time to tidy up. Not that he should care. Gabi was twenty, he surely wouldn’t give a damn what Nico’s flat looked like.
“You know where I live?” Nico asked, already half certain he didn’t.
“No, but just send me your live location and I’ll be there in an hour.”
That chipper tone again. Sometimes Gabi reminded him of a puppy—so much energy, so eager to impress, and so oblivious to how transparent it was. Nico caught himself chuckling as he hung up.
“Tschüss.”
Pocketing his phone, Nico grabbed the empty bowl off the table. Might as well start there.
In truth, he’d been generous with the hour. Half an hour later the flat was spotless. He swept the kitchen tiles more out of boredom than necessity. Passing the bathroom mirror, he gave himself a critical glance, but his hair still sat perfectly styled. There was nothing more that could be done.
Back on the couch, he queued up a video a friend had sent: his Mercedes pushing past 300 km/h on the Autobahn, the needle still climbing. He was engrossed when his phone buzzed with a text: I’m here.
Nico rolled his eyes. What was this obsession with texting instead of knocking? Couldn’t the kid just ring the doorbell like a normal person? Still, he pushed to his feet and opened the door.
There stood Gabi with a wide grin. And a suitcase.
The grin Nico had expected. The suitcase, not at all. He schooled his expression quickly, shook his head, and stepped aside. “Come in.”
Once the door clicked shut, Nico reached around and plucked the suitcase out of Gabi’s hand, testing its weight. Light, but unmistakably a proper suitcase.
“What’s this for? Planning on moving in?”
Gabi gave him a sheepish smile. “Can I stay for a night? I forgot to book a hotel. And Max is on vacation.”
Nico stared for a beat before sighing. One night wasn’t the end of the world. “Alright. But only because I don’t want you homeless in Monaco. And you better behave.”
Gabi nodded, reaching for the suitcase again. Nico easily kept it out of reach. Being stronger than the rookie had its advantages. “Shoes off. I’ll put this in the guest room.”
When he returned, Gabi’s sneakers were neatly lined up by the entrance. The boy himself stood in the middle of the living room in his socks, scrolling through his phone with a slightly lost air, apparently too shy to sit down. Endearing, Nico thought with a flicker of amusement. Probably scrolling on brainrot, or whatever that tun tun sahur nonsense was called.
Clearing his throat, Nico asked, “So what exactly did you want to see in my flat? Since you were so excited to visit.”
“I don’t know.” Gabi glanced up. “Do you even have anything interesting in here?”
The tone wasn’t even meant as a dig, so Nico let it slide. He thought for a moment, then landed on the one thing guaranteed to catch Gabi’s interest: sports. “Wanna see my home gym?”
The reaction was immediate. “You have a home gym?” His face lit up.
Nico chuckled. “Come on.” He gestured toward the hallway.
The gym wasn’t much, but it was functional: pull-up bar, multipurpose bench, weights, a ridiculously expensive yoga mat, and a few extras, all tucked into the same room as his office. A floor-to-ceiling window kept the space from feeling claustrophobic.
“Nice,” Gabi whistled, dragging the word out as his gaze swept the room.
Nico dropped into the oversized armchair in the corner. “I guess you could say it’s my Homeoffice.”
While Gabi explored the equipment, his attention eventually drifted to Nico’s desk. He picked up and examined items one by one with exaggerated interest, which Nico found oddly entertaining. His belongings weren’t that interesting. Nevertheless he enjoyed watching Gabi sift around, brows furrowed with curiosity while he moved his hands in a careful, but sure way that reminded Nico of the times he had watched Gabi in the simulator. When he had seen him drive for the first time, he had been surprised at the maturity that had peaked through Gabi's race craft occasionally.
The sound of a box snapping open snapped Nico from his thoughts. He looked up just in time to catch the rookie’s wide-eyed expression.
“You have weed?” Gabi turned toward him, holding up a small bag from the case Nico kept on the desk. It was almost empty.
Nico barked a laugh. “I smoke sometimes,” he admitted with a shrug. “Helps with stress.”
Gabi still looked faintly surprised. Nico sighed, scooted over, and patted the armchair beside him. It was big enough to pass for a sofa anyway. “Come here. Bring the case.”
Once Gabi sat, he shoved the box onto Nico’s lap. Nico fished out a packet of gummies, tore it open with his teeth, and held one out. A little couldn’t hurt, but he still wanted to make sure that Gabi knew he could decline.
“You don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”
“No, it’s just—” Gabi hesitated, then took it. His leg bounced nervously where it pressed against Nico’s. “I’ve never done this before. But I’ll try it.”
Nico nodded, a flicker of something soft threading through him. He remembered his own first time, the nerves, the anticipation. “I’ll stay sober. Make sure you have a good trip, okay?”
That reassurance earned him a soft smile before Gabi popped the gummy into his mouth. “Now what?”
“Chew and swallow. Don’t suck on it too long. That just delays the high—makes it unpredictable.”
Gabi made short work of it, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. Then he laughed, raising a brow. “How do you know all this?”
Nico smirked. “I grew up in rural Germany, right next to the Dutch border. Let’s just say I was doing some questionable things when I was your age.” His grin widened. “But that’s all in the past.”
Gabi eyed the box on Nico’s lap. “Sure is.” His eyes sparkled with amusement as he pointed at one of the almost-empty bags inside.
“This is different.” Nico chuckled, memories tugging him back to his teens and early twenties. Sometimes he missed that rush of energy, the careless eagerness of youth. But as much as he might wish to dip a toe back into that wild freedom, he wouldn’t trade the perspective he had now. A loving wife, a sweet daughter, a career that had given him not everything he’d wanted, but enough. He was content.
Well, except for this new thing. Handing out gummies to his rookie teammate. His rookie teammate who was eighteen years younger. Better not dwell on it too much, because if he did, that traitorous flicker of satisfaction in his chest might grow into something harder to deny.
He shoved the thought aside by putting the box away, contemplating shortly but then grabbing another gummy before closing the lid and standing up to slide it into his desk drawer. When he turned back to the armchair, Gabriel was watching him with laser focus. His eyes had tracked every motion, gaze falling to Nico’s fist.
Nico opened his palm, revealing the candy sitting there like a baited hook.
“I just grabbed another one. In case you’re a tough cookie to crack.”
Gabi pushed himself up from the armchair, that infuriating smirk spreading across his face.
“You want me to not call you old man, and then you say something like that.”
Nico rolled his eyes and turned for the hallway. When he glanced back, Gabi was right behind him, smoothing out the wrinkles in his jeans with a lazy drag of his hand.
“What do you want to eat?” Nico asked, pulling open the double-sided fridge once he had reached the kitchen. He was already cataloguing ingredients in his head, mentally ruling out any plan that involved leaving the flat. No way in hell was he taking Gabriel shopping like this. If some paparazzo caught the rookie wandering Monaco streets high as a kite, gossip blogs would throw cash at the photos. Absolutely not.
“I don’t know, what do you have?” Gabi circled the island, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, conveniently covering the logo on his chest. Nico blinked when he noticed it was his logo. Gabi's own merch. That was… cute. He turned back to the fridge quickly, heat rising in his chest.
“Salmon?” Nico asked, already pulling out the filets. He didn’t wait for an answer, just thrust them into Gabi’s hands before digging deeper. Leftover salad from yesterday caught his eye, a big bowl wrapped in cling film.
He set the bowl to the side. “Close the fridge?” he said absently. Gabi hummed in agreement and nudged the doors shut with his hip, cradling the salmon in both his hands.
“There’s not much to do with the salad, I’ll just fry the fish, so…” Nico paused, thinking of something simple Gabi could handle. The kid had been awkward even when Nico took his suitcase earlier. Better to give him a task.
“I could set the table?” Gabi shrugged, ducking away from the pan Nico swung out of the cabinet next to his head.
Nico nodded as he poured oil into the pan, savoring the click and whoosh as the flame caught, before rescuing Gabi from his salmon duty.
“Look through the cabinets. Oh, and—” he waved toward the fruit bowl on the kitchen island— “cut a lemon for the fish, please.”
“Got it.” Gabi began rifling through random cupboards like an intruder in someone else’s house. Nico left him to it, carefully laying the salmon into the pan once it was hot enough to crisp the skin.
While frying the salmon, Nico kept throwing glances at Gabi when the boy wasn’t looking. Nico kept noticing things he shouldn’t, but his eyes automatically drifted to Gabi as he searched for cutlery, glasses and plates.
When Gabi stretched up to grab something off one of the high shelves, Nico’s eyes dipped down to the sliver of back that had been exposed by Gabi's shirt riding up. To be more exact, to the two cute dimples sitting there. Nico ripped his eyes away before he started thinking about inappropriate things, like if his thumbs would come to rest in those little dimples, were he to wrap his hands around Gabi's hips from behind. Or when Gabi bent over the island to grab a lemon and Nico’s thoughts drifted to another context that might have a pretty boy bending over a kitchen island.
He hadn’t even taken the weed and regardless his mind was still messing with him for some reason. Maybe it just had been too long since he had last gotten off.
When the fish was done, he split the salad between the bowls Gabi had chosen. The rookie had been surprisingly efficient in setting the table neatly, utensils in place. Only the lemon wedges were missing, but those appeared just as Gabi put the plate down with a flourish.
„All done.“
Nico rewarded him with a brief squeeze at the nape of his neck. “Thanks for setting the table. Sit down already and I’ll just bring the salmon.”
For a split second, Gabi looked almost disappointed when Nico let go of his neck. Maybe Nico was imagining it, reading too much into that little sigh. He brushed it off, plated the filets, ditched the pan, and finally sat across from his teammate.
“You didn’t have to wait,” Nico said, smiling as Gabi wished him bom apetite before digging in with sparkling eyes. Nico nodded, “I know how hungry I always get when I’m high.”
Dinner went easier than Nico expected. Conversation flowed, laughter came easily, and the silences were never uncomfortable. Still, by the end, he noticed Gabi dragging out his answers, words starting to slur slightly at the edges.
After bringing the dishes into the kitchen, Gabi slipped back into the living room, leaving Nico with the dishes. But as his eyes fell on the lone gummy he’d kept aside, Nico decided the dishwasher could wait until tomorrow. He stacked the plates into the smallest pyramid possible, snagged the gummy, and followed.
“I have dessert for you.” He wiggled his brows theatrically before dropping the gummy into Gabi’s waiting hand.
Gabi giggled—actually giggled—and tossed the candy into the air before catching it between his teeth. Nico watched from the other end of the couch, briefly questioning whether the rookie really needed another dose. Then again, this playful streak wasn’t entirely out of character. And the gummies only had five milligrams anyway.
Still, he wasn’t reckless. “Chew and swallow, you know the deal. Come on.”
Gabi did just that, then tilted his head back, mouth open, tongue resting pink and wet against his bottom lip.
“All gone. See?” he teased, giggling again before pouting. “Can we watch a movie? I heard it’s fun when you’re high.”
“Sure.” Nico flicked on Netflix, tossing him the remote to choose something from the overwhelming archive. Anything to keep his eyes from lingering on that mouth. He knew it had been playful, meant as an innocent tease, but that was not going through to his heart, pulse beating a tad faster than it should.
The movie Gabi had chosen was in Portuguese, which meant Nico understood nothing. He could vaguely string together the outline of the police comedy, but the further it went, the less sense it made. At first he had clung to the hope that clarity would come if he just paid close enough attention. Instead, the opposite happened. The longer the film played, the more disoriented he became. Additionally, every character seemed to be in uniform, making it impossible to tell them apart.
The worst part, however, wasn’t the confusion. It was that Nico wanted to understand. He wanted to, because Gabi had picked the film, and it mattered to him, didn’t it? Interestingly enough, Gabi sitting right beside him, giggling so easily, was the most distracting thing of all.
He had migrated from his end of the couch to Nico’s without asking, every bubble of laughter moving his body closer. Whenever he broke out in another fit of those bright, bubbly giggles, his hand found Nico’s shoulder as if anchoring himself. They weren’t the sharp, teasing laughs that usually followed his jabs about Nico’s age, they were light, unguarded, pure. They made heat rise to Nico’s face.
When one particularly breathy laugh tipped Gabi forward, hiding his face in Nico’s shoulder, heat surged from the contact and sank low into Nico’s stomach. Tingles followed, though maybe those were just Gabi’s curls brushing his cheek, tickling his skin. Nico had to physically stop his hand from straying, from settling on the boy’s slim frame. He could picture it too easily: his palm cupping the dip of Gabi’s lower back, where bare skin showed between his shirt and the waistband of his jeans. He again wondered how well his fingertips could fit into the dimples there. Nico’s fingers twitched against the couch cushion. God, what was he even thinking?
When Gabi finally pulled away from his hiding spot, he gasped for air as if he had emptied his lungs into Nico’s shoulder. The sound carved right through Nico’s restraint. When Gabi looked up, his dark eyes were heavy-lidded, pupils wide, lips parted. His tongue peeked pink against tan skin. He looked flushed through, the kind of heat Nico was sure he would feel if he dared touch him. Heat that Nico had no right to imagine. He was married, for God’s sake.
Then Gabi sighed something, half-mumbled—about Nico smelling good? But before Nico could process it, Gabi burrowed right back into his shoulder. The boy’s hum vibrated against him, as if testing Nico’s ability to stay composed.
“You smell like a dad,” Gabi murmured through half-lidded eyes.
“A dad?” Nico repeated, utterly thrown. What did that even mean?
“Old man cologne.” Gabi giggled again, voice loose and slurred. “Smell like you’d take care of me.”
Nico had no idea how to respond. He didn’t have to. Gabi plastered himself closer, and Nico’s suspicion was confirmed: his skin ran warmer than it should. Not fever-hot, but hazy, drug-warm. Weed hit everyone differently, and apparently for Gabi, it lowered every boundary. He was the needy type. The horny type. Just great.
Still, he kept watching the movie, so Nico tolerated the closeness. Tolerated as Gabi dug his hands into Nico’s arm, actively ignoring the deep breaths Gabi took against his neck. Inhaling him. Deep down, though, Nico couldn’t lie, he enjoyed it. The attention, the way it felt to have someone draped across him, trusting, clinging. He had a young, beautiful teammate — controversially young—leaning into him like gravity itself had chosen Nico and Gabi was just a Moon helpless of getting stuck in his orbit. Many men dreamed of something like this. But those men didn’t have wives and daughters they loved more than life itself. And those men probably dreamed of curves and long blond hair. Not long limbs still finding their balance in the world, not messy curls and boyish angles.
Nico shut his eyes, disguising his deep, steadying breath as a yawn. He had to get a grip. But Gabi’s fingers had already wandered beneath his sleeve, tracing the lines of Nico’s bicep, the quiet history of years of work carved into muscle.
“You’re so strong,” Gabi slurred, voice wrecked but steady in its desire. “When you push me around, when you grab my neck… it gets me all worked up. I sometimes have to go to my driver’s room and jerk off before team meetings.”
Nico froze. That took quite the turn. It seemed like Gabi wasn’t experiencing nearly as much whiplash from the confession, just chewing on the knuckle of a finger, blinking up at Nico.
Before Nico could form a thought, Gabi clumsily tried to climb into his lap. His limbs were too uncoordinated for it to really work, easy enough for Nico to stop. He didn’t. He let him straddle a thigh, not quite in his lap, but far, far closer than he ever should have been.
“Gabriel,” Nico managed, forcing steel into his voice. “Whatever you’re thinking, it won’t happen. You’re not thinking straight, and I have a wife.” He ignored the way Gabi’s breath caught at that, ignored what it did to him to hear it. “I will not take advantage of you.”
But Gabi only tilted his head, arched his back where Nico’s hand—when had that happened?—was steadying him. No, not steadying. Holding. Nico could cover almost all of his narrow back with one hand. He wasn’t even much taller than the rookie, but the difference was glaring: where Gabi’s body still had the awkwardness of youth, Nico’s had been honed sharp by years in racing.
“Gabriella.” The name tore from him in warning, last weapon in his arsenal. It always did something to Gabi, and Nico thought—hoped—it might rein this in. Rein himself in. Because why was his self-control fraying over a boy perched in his lap?
The sound Gabi made in response was almost a moan. “You know what I did the first time you called me that?” His accent thickened, words dragging.
“What?” Nico shouldn’t ask. But he did anyways. Gabi seemed to have that effect on him. Making Nico do things that he normally wouldn’t even dream of.
Gabi looked into a vague direction over Nico’s head, a hint of shyness ghosting over his expression before he made eye contact again. “I stuffed three fingers into myself back at the hotel. Made myself come until I was crying, thinking about you fucking me. Making me take it.”
Nico swore under his breath. “Verdammte Scheiße, Gabi.”
“Yeah.” Gabi’s hips hitched against his thigh, gasping at the friction.
“What do I do with you, huh?” Nico’s voice was rough. He couldn’t stop the images from flooding his brain: Gabi drooling into a pillow, messy with tears and cum. But also how it would look from the outside, the story people would tell. Innocent Gabriel, taken advantage of by his older, married teammate. His cock twitched traitorously, and shame burned hotter. Nico realized he needed some control back, somehow, in any way.
But it was hard to think when Gabi squirmed and whimpered against him, when his face tilted back in pleasure, eyes shut, hair falling into his eyes with every desperate roll of his hips.
An idea struck. “Stand up. Strip for me.”
Gabi nodded, shaky but obedient. Nico’s eyes dropped down to the obvious tent in Gabi's jeans once he had stood up. He watched as Gabi's hands went to the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head. On a whim, Nico rose as well, shoving down his cargos, cock swelling against his briefs as he sat back down.
He leaned back into the couch, spreading his thighs wide. When he looked up, Gabi was bare before him. Stripped of everything but his flush.
Nico took his time. His gaze lingered over perky brown nipples on a slim chest, over a flat stomach that quivered with ragged breaths. Muscles just beginning to show their promise, not yet filled out, hints of what would come after years of racing. For now, he was all youth, raw and wanting. Practically vibrating with energy.
Finally, Nico reached for him, his hands closing over narrow hips. He dragged the boy into his lap again, making him straddle one thigh. The sight of his cock leaking across Nico’s skin almost undid him.
This was madness. And yet, Nico leaned back, arms draped over the couch, leaving Gabi exposed, perched on him like some offering.
“Go on,” he said, voice dark. “Take what you need. I won’t take advantage of you. But if you choose to take it, if you take it yourself…who am I to stop you?”
It was a pitiful excuse. But it was all he had.
Gabi’s face went slack for a heartbeat, blank and dazed, before his lashes fluttered and his eyes slipped nearly shut, as though even holding them open cost him effort. His hand found Nico’s, where it gripped his hip, and pressed down insistently, urging Nico to hold him harder. A sound slipped free, half-whine, half-plea, when Nico obeyed, his fingers digging in deep enough that the boy would wear the marks tomorrow. Nico had the sudden instinct to lift his hand away, to soften his touch, but Gabi was already rolling his hips again, slow and needy.
“I’m not gonna break,” he mumbled, lips catching between his teeth as his gaze stayed fixed on the place he was grinding against Nico’s thigh.
Maybe he was right, maybe he wouldn’t. But Nico found himself hungry for the contradiction, for the sight of Gabi flushed with embarrassment again, stripped down to that vulnerable pink glow.
“But you look so breakable, Gabriella.”
The name did its usual damage. The rhythm of Gabi’s hips faltered, his lip slipping free from the abuse his teeth dealt , pink and kiss-swollen, as a blush spread bright across his boyish features.
“I don’t—mhm—I don’t look breakable.” The protest was paper thin, unraveling entirely when his back arched, when his whole body begged for friction despite the defiance in his words.
Nico knew he shouldn’t be enjoying this. This game, this tease, but he was being pulled into it far too easily. He wasn’t the one tripping balls on weed, yet he felt intoxicated, dizzy in Gabi’s orbit.
“Oh, but you’re so pretty. So lithe.” His hand slid away from Gabi’s hip, drifting upward, slow and deliberate—over ribs, brushing a hardened nipple, before coming to rest on his throat.
“Like a girl.”
He tightened his grip, not cruelly, just enough to remind Gabi how much power was in that single hand. A warning, a promise, nothing more than the ghost of control. That he had definitely fully regained, thank you very much.
Gabi collapsed forward, moaning into Nico’s shoulder. Nico felt the vibration of it first, in the palm of the hand now digging deeper in Gabi's throat , before he heard the sound itself. Sweet like an invitation to sin.
“Do something, I can’t—” Gabi’s voice cracked into a whine, so raw it made Nico’s cock twitch in his briefs. He should have hated how much he loved it, how much he loved seeing Gabi like this, undone and greedy for it.
“Come on, get up.” Nico patted his hip, gently but firmly, and pushed him off his lap. Gabi detached with a stumble, leaving Nico both relieved and aching from the absence. He stood with a groan that drew a giggle from Gabi.
“Shall we take a look at my bedroom too? Complete the tour?” Nico couldn’t help the corny joke.
Gabi nodded eagerly, like a kid agreeing to candy, and Nico led him into the master bedroom, dominated by a perfectly made bed. The second Nico stopped, Gabi was there again, pressed flush to his back, radiating heat through cotton and skin. Dexterous hands snuck beneath Nico’s shirt, greedy palms skating over his abs as if they couldn’t wait to memorize every ridge.
“Don’t hide, Gabi. Come on.” Nico chuckled, but the laugh caught in his throat when Gabi’s hand cupped him through his briefs.
In one precise movement, Nico spun and pushed. Gabi landed sprawled across the bed, wide-eyed and startled, his pretty mouth parting in a way that made guilt stab through Nico’s chest. He looked young like that, too young, eyes rimmed red, staring up with wonder instead of fear. The guilt tangled messily with the darker urge crawling up Nico’s spine: to take him apart piece by piece until nothing remained but the wild desire inside.
He turned away for a second, searching for restraint, then gave it up. The shirt came off, the briefs followed, and suddenly Nico was bare under Gabi’s gaze. The boy rose onto his elbows, eyes dragging down Nico’s body, lingering shamelessly.
“Why are you hiding all that?” Gabi’s pout was so absurdly sincere it drew a laugh out of Nico despite himself.
He crawled up the bed, settling between Gabi’s thin legs, forcing himself to keep smiling instead of groaning at how inviting he looked. His long limbs stretched out, chest rising and falling fast, curls plastered damp against his temple. Nico pressed a hand to his throat again. Gabi gasped, head tipping back, eyes fluttering, but his hands returned to mapping Nico’s body, snaking along ribs, spine, shoulders, as if his touch could brand them.
“You don’t even know what you do to me.” Nico’s voice was rough, intimate, too soft for how filthy it sounded. “When you’re spread out like this. You should see yourself.”
Gabi clawed at his shoulders, nails digging, and Nico caught the mirror in his periphery, an idea flickering to life. If Gabi could see what Nico saw, he’d shatter.
He slipped out of Gabi’s grasp, ignoring the soft sound of protest, and sat down on the edge of the bed facing the mirror. Gabi followed, confused and blushing, until Nico pulled him into his lap again, only this time facing forward, back pressed to Nico’s chest.
The sight could’ve made Nico come. Gabi’s legs spread wide over his own, thighs trembling, flushed and sweaty, curls clinging to his forehead. His reflection was a ruin. Soft lips, teary eyes, collarbones glowing pink with heat. Nico tucked one stray curl back with a gentleness he had no business showing, watching the shiver roll through Gabi at the smallest touch.
It was the weed that made him hyper-sensitive like this, Nico knew that. Still, he couldn’t stop hoping Gabi would always react this way for him.
He slid his hand back to Gabi’s throat, tilting his chin from side to side with two fingers.
“Look at you.”
For a moment, Gabi’s gaze locked with Nico’s in the reflection. Then it drifted, again and again, back to the same place. Nico’s hand resting at his throat.
“What do you like so much about this?” Nico’s fingers pressed, just lightly, just enough to make the question sincere. He wasn’t teasing, he actually wanted to know.
Gabi’s voice came out shredded. “Your ring.”
Nico’s eyes dropped to the simple silver band cutting into Gabi’s soft throat. A wedding band. The weight of it should have crushed the boy. Should have dragged Nico straight out of this room, straight back into guilt and fidelity. Instead, the sight of it thrilled Gabi. His lips parted, his breath hitched, and his throat strained into the pressure as though begging for more.
Then Gabi ground down again, voice breaking with a moan. “Keep talking.”
He was gone, voice dreamy with need. Nico should have refused. Should have stopped. But he was weak.
“This is dangerous, Gabriella. What if my wife saw us like this?” The warning slipped out sharp, but he couldn’t smother the cruel, teasing lilt laced into it.
Gabi tipped forward, pressing his palms against Nico’s knees, as if to ground himself. But Nico didn’t need to see him to know the effect his words had on Gabi. He could feel it in the moan caught in his throat, the twitch of his body.
“Oh, you’d love for her to see, wouldn’t you?” Nico scolded softly, tilting Gabi’s chin back up with the hand at his throat while the other tangled into curls, pulling just enough to stop Gabi from hiding again. Which wasn’t a lot, because the boy was like warm clay on a pottery wheel. He yielded instantly, so pliant, so easily manipulated.
“You’d love for her to see how pretty you are for me.” His hand trailed lower, stroking Gabis side and dipping down even deeper to massage his thighs.
“Look at you. Long trembling legs. A slutty waist. Cute little tits.” The words sounded wrong in his mouth, too much like teenage dirty talk for a man his age, but Gabi’s muffled noises, half-hidden behind a bitten hand, made them feel right again.
Nico thrust his hips up sharply, a groan breaking through, his breath hot on Gabi’s ear. “Such a good girl.”
“Oh, God, Nico.”
Gabi met his thrusts eagerly, his whole body moving against him with reckless abandon. Nico buried his face in the curve of his neck, needing the concealment, needing the moment to brace against the dizzying friction. Gabi giggled when Nico’s sharp breaths fanned hot over his damp skin, the sound giddy and obscene at once. His neck was slick with sweat, flushed and begging for a mark, and Nico gave in without hesitation, pressing his lips to the bony ridge of his highest vertebra, then sliding sideways to mouth at the taut skin over his trapezius. He sucked until he felt the blood rush to the surface, until he knew it would stain.
When he finally lifted his gaze again, lashes heavy, he caught Gabi’s reflection in the mirror. The boy’s lips were bitten raw, eyes dark, his throat painted in blooming bruises while Nico watched his own handiwork spread.
“Please,” Gabi gasped, lips trembling open around a silent moan, “need it. Need you.”
Nico groaned low in his chest, detaching from the salty heat of his skin only to lick the taste off his lips, savoring it. “Verdammt, Gabi…
You wanna ride me here? You want me to make you cry on it?”
“Yes, fuck, I want that, please, Nico.”
Precome was already glistening at the tip of his cock, spilling freely though no hand had touched him. Nico’s mind reeled. The boy was coming undone on nothing but the grind of their bodies, the reflection, the pressure of being looked at. He was just a view, and he was already ruined. Holy fuck.
Nico leaned back on the mattress, groping blindly beneath the neatly tucked sheets until his hand caught the lube he knew had to be there somewhere. Upon finding it, triumph flickered through him, and he pressed a quick, victorious kiss to Gabi’s cheekbone before flipping the cap.
He squeezed some onto his fingers, holding them up under Gabi’s nose.
“Strawberry, you freak—oh.” Gabi’s teasing died in a stuttered breath as Nico’s slick finger traced his rim, circling lazily before dipping inside.
Gabi’s eyes pinched shut, muscles tensing, but he relaxed quickly, his body softening around the intrusion. He was molten inside, too hot, and for a flicker of a second Nico worried about the boy's well-being. Then arousal came and steamrolled the thought, made it irrelevant.
He pumped his finger gently, coaxing, while his other hand slid down to stroke Gabi’s cock. The silver wedding band glinted as it dragged over slick skin, catching on precum. The sight made something hungry twist inside Nico.
Gabi moaned, thrusting up to meet Nico’s hand, which had the obscene side effect of forcing him back onto Nico’s finger as he moved. The accident made him shiver, his whimper breaking sweetly. Nico pressed a second finger in, stretching him, listening to the way his soft sighs shifted into mewls.
He bent forward again, kissing damp skin, trailing open-mouthed worship down the slope of his shoulder. And when his fingertips brushed Gabi’s prostate, the boy’s whines climbed, high-pitched. Nico kept hitting it, over and over, reveling in the noises he elicited.
Then Gabi gasped, desperate, “Hhm, stop. Stop!”
Nico froze instantly. Urgency sharpened Gabi’s expression, his hand wrapping Nico’s at his cock to halt his strokes. One word and Nico’s stomach dropped, doubt crashing through him. Had Gabi finally realized? Had it hit him how wrong this was, how much he was being taken advantage of?
Nico eased his fingers free, guilt twisting his insides. He was ready to stop.
But Gabi only panted, lips caught between teeth again—God, that habit—and whispered, “Was about to come.” His voice shook. “Only want to come on your cock.”
The words wrecked Nico’s restraint. Relief and arousal surged together, crushing his doubts in an instant.
“But I need to prepare you better,” Nico murmured, kissing his cheek with something bordering on tenderness. “Don’t want you sore tomorrow.” Protective, paternal even—he knew he sounded ridiculous, but Gabi only shook his head stubbornly.
“I want that. I need to feel it. I need to know it was real.”
The bruises already spreading across his throat, his shoulders—apparently those weren’t enough. He wanted ache, stretch, a reminder with every movement that this secret existed, that it belonged to them alone. Dirty proof.
Nico’s throat tightened. “And you promise you can take it? You’ll be a good girl and cry for me?”
“Ngh, yes. Yes, I promise.” Gabi squirmed impatiently in his lap, his whole body twitching with the need to be filled.
Deciding to take mercy, Nico squeezed out more lube, stroking himself with deliberate slowness. More strokes than necessary, knowing he’d need to calm the sharp edge when he was inside.
He freed his other hand from Gabi’s grip, anchoring him by the hip, no longer caring about bruises. The boy wanted them, wanted the proof etched on his body. With his other hand, Nico guided himself to Gabi’s entrance.
And when he pushed in—fuck.
The boy was tight, unbearably so, hot and slicked by lube but still a vice around him. Gabi sank down inch by inch, his jaw slack, his body trembling, until he was fully seated. His brain looked fried—lips parted, breath fractured, unshed tears clinging to his lashes. Pretty wasn’t the word. Gorgeous felt more fitting.
Nico’s gaze dragged down. Gabi’s chest rose and fell in frantic bursts, ribcage straining to pull in enough oxygen to keep up with what was happening.
Nico wiped the excess lube onto the sheets, uncaring, and pressed his palm to Gabi’s sternum. The frantic heartbeat thumped against his hand. He slid lower, skimming over tense abs—until he felt it low in his stomach. The faint swell of himself, inside Gabi, pushing from the inside out.
Words failed him. He caught Gabi’s hand and pressed it over the bulge so he could feel it too.
Gabi mewled brokenly, thighs clenching. “So big, mmh, so big inside me.“
Nico sucked in air through clenched teeth because Gabi hitched his hips, whether it be accidental or intentional. Given Gabi's own surprised little moan, it was probably not intentional though.
“Circle your hips, can you do that for me Gabriella?“ Nico’s voice was strained, filled through and through with desperation, but Gabi's state was not much better, slowly figuring out how to move his body to make Nico and himself feel good.
“Good girl, what a waste only I get to see you like this.“ Nico said mainly to get Gabi to flush and babble nonsense, but as he said it, he realized that he did feel like it was a waste. Gabi looked as though he should be adorned with flowers and gifted to an immortal deity the way he looked right now.
“What a shame that I have to keep you my dirty secret. I don’t deserve you all for my own like this.“ Nico felt a wave of pride swooping his body.
“I should show you off to the team like this.“ Nico let his fingers ghost over Gabi's chest, his other hand still holding Gabi's hand low on his stomach, pressing into the soft skin whenever Nico was nudged up into Gabi's stomach from the inside. “Get you high again and bend you over the car. They should know what a good girl you are when get fucked.“
“M’good, so good.“ Gabi's voice cracked with his words and unshed tears dropped down over his cheeks.
Nico felt his orgasm creeping in on him at the sight of Gabi actually crying. It hadn’t been just empty words, Gabi was actually so fucking gone.
“Would you cry for the team too? In front of the mechanics?“
Gabi made a choked off sound, squeezing his eyes shut which just resulted in more tears escaping them before whining. “I would, promise. Need them to know I’m a good girl.“
Gabi sounded so genuine, so desperate, Nico fucked up into Gabi once and snapped, coming deep inside him, before he was even able to warn Gabi.
Gabi came directly afterwards with a sniffle. Untouched.
Nico felt a sudden wave of protectiveness overcome himself and, after catching his breath (he wasn’t twenty anymore, sue him) started pressing kisses to Gabi's wet cheeks as best as he could in their position.
“Good job, you were so good for me.“ He kept murmuring praise in an incomprehensible mix of German and English.
Slowly, he eased out of Gabi, committing the sight of his come dripping out of the boys hole to his memory, because fuck.
He slid Gabi off his lap as gently as possible, but as soon as he let go, Gabi flopped onto the bed with a giggle.
Nico scoffed fondly, pushing himself to his feet and heading to the bathroom. His legs pricked with needles, a little numb after Gabi had sat in his lap so long, but he crossed the room anyway, stepping onto the warm tiles. Wetting a fresh towel with lukewarm water, he caught sight of Gabi stretching on the big bed. The boy looked small, almost drowning in the sheets, and Nico felt a flicker of nausea.
The thing was, he didn’t feel guilty. Not really. He felt good, actually, younger than he had in years. What gnawed at him wasn’t guilt—it was that he didn’t feel guilty. Gabi lying in the bed where his wife usually slept should have felt wrong. It didn’t. He reached deep into his chest and found no remorse—only fondness. Protectiveness.
But he had more immediate matters to tend to. After cleaning himself up and slipping into a fresh pair of briefs, he grabbed another towel and faced Gabi. Gently, he wiped at the boy’s stomach and the inside of his thighs, laughing at Gabi’s blush as he hid his face in his hands. When he was done, he tossed the towel aside and climbed into bed, spreading the blanket over both of them.
“That was the best I’ve ever been fucked.” Gabi murmured, cuddling up against Nico’s front, legs tangling with his. “Who knew you still had it in you.”
Even fucked out and high, Gabi could still tease him. Unbelievable.
“Excuse you?” Nico chuckled. “Well, I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”
“I did but I’m so sleepy.” Gabi nuzzled into the blanket, face disappearing into Nico’s neck, probably inhaling that dad-smell again—or whatever it was he’d called it.
“You can sleep if you want,” Nico reassured him, stroking his messy hair while his breathing evened out.
Nico lay awake a little longer, letting the heat of Gabi curled against him sink in. Summer break had changed so quickly. Now, with the boy in his arms, he wondered what he was going to do next. He continued to be plagued by thoughts about how their dynamic might’ve been impacted and how he’d manage to face his wife when she’d return until he fell asleep himself.